


Westerfield Ball

by Graceless Nerd (FayTheGay)



Series: Daula the half-orc's Adventures [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Bard - Freeform, Gen, Innuendo, Killing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 09:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14952420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayTheGay/pseuds/Graceless%20Nerd
Summary: A rookie is on his first solo mission. Daula convinces his boss to join him.





	Westerfield Ball

They were headed to a ball in Westerfield. Rasenth rarely went to these things, which Daula could relate to. Yet, there they were. It was mostly Bram’s fault. 

_ “I want to prove myself. I can do this on my own _ .” Bram was Summer’s responsibility but Summer had managed to get herself arrested two days before the event. She had gotten herself out, but it had left the rookie without its veteran for the show. So Summer was off the job, and Daula was in the area. 

But he wasn’t taking on someone else’s rookie without a prize, and Bram wasn’t smart enough to get the job done on his own. So he had bargained, and he had won. And now, he was dressed as a woman -much to the chagrin of Rasenth- rather convincingly. There was a bit of respect he had to hand to any woman that wore these damned dresses regularly. He also wanted to give Summer a bit of gold for pulling off his looks. He was  _ hot _ . 

“Stop fidgeting.” Rasenth elbowed him in the rib and he huffed, leaning into the side of his date. Because this was  _ absolutely _ a date, and if he had his way he was absolutely putting out. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to dress up as Ricoril? We could go back. I’m sure you’d be a dashing half-orc. I’m into either.” Rasenth didn’t look in the least bit amused, not that he did generally. Well, he did, but mostly when he was taunting Daula with open ended promises. “Summer deserves a reward for this.” He continued as they began moving towards the entrance of the smaller mansion. Bran would be somewhere inside already. Daula couldn’t remember what his plan was. He also didn’t care too much. If Bran made a rookie mistake, it was Bran’s rookie mistake. 

“I’ll let her take that up with Lender.”

Making a face, Daula bit his tongue to keep from mouthing off as they stepped into hearing range of the guard at the door. 

“Names.”

“Toblen and Ricorli Merrywin.” Rasenth introduced them, the guard giving Daula a long, hard look which he huffed at dramatically.

“Do you  _ mind _ ?” Whoops. The guard seemed completely stunned by the gruffness of his voice, completely lacking in any of the effeminate qualities that he had practiced with Summer for an hour before they left. 

“Apologies. My wife sounds as though she is coming down with something.” Rasenth lied through his teeth, Daula following it with the most realistic feminine cough he could muster. If the guard didn’t believe the show, he seemed fit on letting it go. Whether to humor them or leave them to their own devices he wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered too much.

“Right, well I hope the two of you enjoy yourselves.” The guard stepped aside and Daula smiled widely at him as they stepped through the doorframe. 

“I should strangle you.”

“You could. Or you could praise yourself for being a great liar. Maybe I could too. I could stroke your ego a bit.”

“I don’t think that’s the only thing you want to stroke.” 

“Is it that obvious?” Daula asked innocently, as though he hadn’t made his interest clear a hundred and ten times before. Tugging the dragonborn’s arm around his hips, they fell into step together. “Let’s live a bit.”

“I think your idea of living and mine are two entirely different things,  _ darling _ .” The last bit came as the rounded a corner into a room. The inside was full of people. The kind of people that Daula couldn’t stand. Noble folk who came from wealth and class. People with names that people knew, the kind of person he was currently dressed to be. 

He’d spent plenty of time around them -or rather, near them- since he began working for The Black Dog. Even when robbing them blind it was a chore to pretend to enjoy the parties. At least with Rasenth around as well as his little facade to keep up, this would be interesting. 

“I can see the smoke pouring from your ears.” Rasenth commented as Daula attempted to pull him towards the dance floor. The musicians were playing a slow song, one of his favorites to play on his own, and he openly scowled as he glowered at the silver dragonborn. “We aren’t dancing. We need to watch Bran.”

“Bran’s fine. He’s a smart kid. He’s got this. Please.” 

“Maybe in a few. We’re working.”

“And you’re not a field worker. It’ll look off if the Lord and Lady Merrywin don’t take part in a dance together. I’ve been to these things before, you know.”

“If I wasn’t your employer I would highly doubt that.” With an indulging smile, Rasenth led him to the center of the room anyways and Daula cheered internally for small victories as he allowed himself to be lead. 

“You’ve done this before.” The dragonborn acknowledged as they began to move with the music and he chuckled softly, “Why?”

“How do you think I work, Rasenth? I have to be what the target needs. Sometimes, that puts me in odd situations like this one.”

“Why is it I get the feeling you have been in many situations like this?”

“Lender enjoys tormenting me.” Daula responded with a far too casual shrug, hair falling across his face much to his annoyance. Annoyance that was quickly replaced by a small thread of glee -and something else- when Rasenth reached up to tuck his too long hair behind his ear. 

“I enjoy tormenting you as well.”

“Ah, but I’m a patient man. And Lender’s torments aren’t the kind that I enjoy in the privacy of my own bed.” Lender’s torments would have been humiliating if he was a modest man. The only thing that stopped them from being so was his past, the things he had done when he was younger.

“You’re incorrigible. How many times will I have to tell you no before you accept it?”

“How many times will I have to flaunt myself before you say yes? I’m skilled, Razzy. I’m sure you’ve heard the whispers.”

“Ever considered that maybe that’s the problem?” Rasenth retorted with no venom in the words. 

“I would except I know who warms your bed at nights. They’re pretty, sure. Lovely little bodies. Yet, they all are truly lacking in the bits that are so fun to play with.” There was a glint in Rasenth’s expression that Daula hadn’t seen since the first time they’d played this game. The night he’d tried -and failed- to seduce the dragonborn.

_ Dragonborns _ .

“Incorrigible.” Rasenth repeated, yet Daula didn’t miss the glimmer of curiosity in his expression. Ah, yes. Daula had spent too much time trying to find a way to get to Rasenth. Every attempt over the last few years had been thwarted, yet he continued. It was a dream that one day he would succeed. Maybe this day. This night. They could enjoy themselves and move along. No one needed to know anything different.

“May I?” Daula jolted a bit as a hand came down on his shoulder and he turned a bit, tilted his head to the side and let his hair fall a bit in his face. A dance was risky, yet this was also Lord Dalen. The owner of the estate. 

“Of course.” Rasenth gave him a concerned look as he was whisked away by the bronze skinned elf. Lord Dalen was disliked among the commonfolk of town and he had in good faith knowledge that someone was being hired to kill him. 

Not from The Black Dog.

Considering where this man’s hand was wandering, he  _ really _ hoped his sister wasn’t involved. 

“So, Ricorli. A dragonborn.” Daula held his tongue, thinking of the blade he’d stashed under his dress in case of an emergency. “I have to remain impressed, even after all this time.”

“Well, he didn’t marry me for my looks.” Daula drawled with a sly smile that caused the elf to raise an eyebrow. “Don’t act like a fool. I’m a half-orc. There are few reasons a dragonborn would lower themselves to my stature, much less his kind.”

“So why did you marry a dragonborn.”

“Hm.” Daula smirked, “I have always been drawn to scales.”

“Does he know you’re a man?” His breath caught as the hand on his hip moved. “Or are you saving that for the honeymoon?”

“Oh, he knows.” Daula tugged out of his hold, batted the offending hand away with narrowed eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. If you want to dress as a woman, that is your business. I hold no judgement.” Bullshit.

“Then I will be returning to my spouse.” 

“Are you sure you want to do that?” The elf stepped forward, pressed a bit too close into his personal space and murmured low. “I could ruin the family’s name. Just a word from me and they would know that their son married a whore.” Joke was on him, then. It wasn’t  _ his _ family’s name. And it wasn’t a far off analysis. But he wasn’t going to let this asshole try to manipulate him. Not when he had a knife. Not when he was wise enough to know that this definitely wasn’t the elf’s first attempt.

“I’ll take the risk.” Daula stumbled back a bit, seemingly falling over the back of his dress as he fell onto his ass. It wasn’t pleasant, but it gave him the opportunity to fumble with the bottom of the thing. As he struggled to his feet he snagged the blade from the sheathe on his leg. 

Rasenth had joined his side, there were people openly staring and the music stopped. Not that Daula cared. For the moment, he was detached. It wasn’t a show anymore, it was a fight. 

“Dal,  _ don’t _ .” Completely ignoring the order from his boss, Daula threw himself at the elf who was nowhere near prepared for the attack. In one, solid motion his dagger cut across the elf’s throat. Shouts rounded from the room as women screamed and chaos erupted. 

“Get her!” Daula shot an irritated glare towards Rasenth who had his hands up, a false look of horror on his face.

He wasn’t paid well enough for this. 

Diving under a table, Daula was barely missed by the arrows that were shot at his back. He fumbled a bit and pulled up the edge of his dress, twisted around and came out with his flute. 

Then he played. It was short and sharp as he flung his arm to the side, a sudden wave of thunderous force erupting from where he was sat. The entire building rumbled with the power of a crack of thunder as things were thrown away all around him. Another small tune and he was back on his feet under the guise of a tabaxi woman that he’d seen in the party. The room was full of confused guards and party guests but he didn’t dare stick around too long to see the outcome of that. 

Somewhere in the crowd, he spotted Bran who was running out the door with a less than concealed object tucked beneath the edge of his cloak. Was that his fault? Or was the kid just an idiot? Well, that wasn’t his problem. His problem was getting away from the chaos before his spell faded. Which was an easy task. 

He would find Rasenth when things settled down. 

.-+-.

Later in the night, Daula snuck directly into Rasenth’s room with no preamble. The dragonborn was waiting for him, eyebrow raised. He was lounged back on his bed with his arms tucked behind his head. 

“What was that about?”

“I know you aren’t stupid, Rasenth.”

Rasenth chuckled, shook his head. “No, I’m not The contract on his head wasn’t ours, though. There’s going to be repercussions.”

“That asshole would’ve gotten himself killed either way. Their contract, our contract, some smart woman with a knife. It was inevitable. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not your business, and it wasn’t ours. That blood was meant for someone else.”

“Yes, well it was mine. I’m not going to be manipulated and groped by some high rank, arrogant-”

“You would have if it was your venture.” Rasenth interrupted him and he ground his teeth together. “If Lender or me had told you to go in there, dress up really nice and let the elf do what he wanted you would have done it. The only difference here is the lack of gold. You will do just about anything for gold.” Rasenth shifted around, put his legs over the edge of the bed. Amber eyes never left his. “There is a bigger picture, Daula. I could have gone alone, yet I let you be a part of it. I even came along on your silly attempt to seduce me, because we know that was your intentions.”

“Why?” There was no reason to deny his intentions, they weren’t a secret. But what was the point of bringing him into this? Rasenth wasn’t making any sense. 

“Because I have faith in your abilities. I think you could do us good, Daula. Tonight has changed my mind. At least for the time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It  _ means _ that one day, I will be out of my seat. There’s always shifts, always adjustments, and Lender doesn’t trust me. If he gets what he wants, I will disappear. I would have  _ liked _ if it was you who replaced me.”

“What are you talking about? Why would Lender want you upseated?” If anyone needed to be thrown off his seat, it was Lender. But that was a discussion for another day. 

“Why does he do anything?” Rasenth countered and Daula bit his tongue so hard he drew blood. “He enjoys tormenting people, Daula. Especially those that let him. Don’t let him trick you for a moment and never let your guard down.”

“That doesn’t tell me why you think he’s trying to have you thrown out.”

“Because I told him to stop.” Rasenth responded simply. “He thinks he has something over me, something that will make the others lose their faith in my ability to lead you.”

“Does he?”

“Does it matter?” Daula frowned, leaned back against the wall as Rasenth rose to his feet, put his hands on his hips.. “I respect what you did. Even if it will cause us trouble with the others. It isn’t going to get your any further in the organization, though. You let your anger lead you and that isn’t a good thing.”

Irritation was bubbling beneath his surface. So it had been a test. A test that he’d failed. Not that he needed Rasenth’s help in becoming a leader. If he wanted that, that was a problem for later. “I want gold for it, Raz.”

“And I want the world to kneel before me. What else are you willing to offer?”

“The same as always. But I want my gold. I deserve it. If I hadn’t done what I did Bran would’ve been caught and you know it. He was a stupid kid and he shouldn’t have been working alone. I want a portion.” 

There was a long moment of silence as the two stared between each other. Each side willing the other to back down.

Then Rasenth smiled. It was broad, indulging and Daula  _ knew _ he finally had his prize. It had taken three years of pressing the dragonborn, someone he knew would have accepted his advances the first night if he hadn’t found more amusement in tormenting him. 

“Let’s see if the rumors are true. Are you really as good with your mouth as they say?”

Daula had never gotten out of his clothes faster.

.-+-.

“Admit it. You’re impressed.”

“Hm.” Rasenth had an arm tucked behind his head, sheet half covering him in a semblance of modesty. “I was more impressed with the end show. Those first two performances were questionable.”

“It’s been a while.” Daula huffed with a roll of his eyes as he stretched out, grinning when Rasenth openly checked him out. “You let me think I was your first man.”

“I have it in good knowledge that it really hasn’t been, but considering the time I’ve made you wait I really can’t blame you for that.” Rasenth completely disregarded the secondary comment. 

“Were you stalking me?” He didn’t know whether to be offended or impressed.

“No. I was gathering potential information for my possible successor. Which you ruined for yourself. You have no reason to worry, Daula. You will go on as you have been. I have no eyes on you anymore. Though I’m not sure you don’t have any on you from other sources.” 

There was a moment where he seriously considered the implications. Rasenth had been prepared to promote him. Yet, the idea of doing so was less than appealing. If he were to climb the ranks, he wouldn’t take Rasenth’s position and he wouldn’t want it to be handed to him. He’d want to earn it.

“I think it’s time you go, Dal.”

“I’ll see you again later.” Daula responded, finally tugging the last of his clothes on before leaving the room. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dice rolls performance checks for the sex because why not?  
> 9, 5, 18


End file.
